A Greater Purpose
by RumPotatoes
Summary: [Set in WWI] Matthew Williams can't help but feel like he has no place in this world. No one cares to notice him. And he doesn't want to only be needed for a fight he didn't want to be in. So why does everyone care to notice when he breaks all the rules?
1. Chapter 1

_"Ooh! Matt, come look at this!" Alfred exclaimed excitedly, the chair beneath his feet wobbling a little as he tiptoed to reach whatever he had found on the shelf._

 _Matthew turned around, seeing what his brother was doing. "Alfred, be careful!" he cried out, a bit too late. Alfred had grabbed a dusty, old wrinkled paper from the top of the bookshelf, and lost his balance. He fell backwards into a box of their grandmother's old dresses and coats with a faint_ thud.

 _"Boys?" they heard their mother call from downstairs. "What is happening up there?"_

 _"It's nothing, mom!" Alfred shouted as Matthew opened his mouth. "Whew, that was close."_

 _"That was_ close? _" Matthew repeated, bewildered. "You could've gotten hurt, Alfred!"_

 _Alfred waved it off, pushing himself out of the box of clothes. "That box smells absolutely horrible," he noted, making a face. "Anyhow, look at what I found Matt!"_

 _The older of the boys presented the old letter, addressed to their grandfather. "Lieutenant Jones," Matthew read aloud, frowning immediately after. "Doesn't anyone ever use the Williams part?"_

 _Alfred patted his back reassuringly. "It's alright, Matt! I'm sure someone's going to acknowledge the Williams side of the family eventually!" He grinned, calming Matthew down. "Now, let's look at this letter..."_

* * *

Matthew woke up to the rapid knocking coming from his window. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning on the oil lamp and opening his eyes. He didn't bother putting on a shirt; he just crawled out of bed, and opened the window to let the silhouette come in.

"You know, Al, there's this thing called a _door,"_ he said. He waddled over to his bed to get the slippers beneath it.

"If Mom caught me walking in the hallways this late with what I found, then that would be no fun!" Alfred pointed out, earning a cuff on the back of the head from Matthew.

"What did you find this time?" the younger one asked, pulling on a jacket that was hanging on his chair. Alfred pulled out a letter from his pocket, handing it to Matthew. "I found this on the table downstairs. It arrived not too long ago, Matt."

Matthew soon realized what was written on the envelope. There was a small little symbol on the top right corner, and in the middle had this written:

 _For Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams_

Alfred had a silly grin on his face that soon faded as Matthew frowned, and murmured, "Are they serious?"

"What's wrong, Matthew?" Al asked, tilting his head in confusion. "They finally acknowledged the Williams side of the family! Isn't that what you wanted?"

Matthew showed the envelope to Alfred, pointing to the top right corner. "Alfred, do you know what this insignia is?"

"Uh... It's the symbol of the army?"

" _That is exactly my point!"_ Alfred had to clamp his hand over Matthew's mouth because they heard the sounds of movement coming from across the hallway. "Alfred, this is a letter from the army! It's about the war!"

"Oh." Matthew had to resist the urge to slap his forehead. The Americans (and Canadians) hadn't known about the war until recently. Their mother wanted neither of them to get involved, and Alfred was clearly past the border. But the way his older brother dropped his head, and stared at his feet sadly made Matthew sigh.

"You know what, fine. Let's read the stupid letter." Alfred perked up, and tore it open. "I'm honestly starting to question who is the older one in this relationship."

They both sat down on Matthew's bed, reading the letter. There was a long introductory from the officer that wrote it, but Matthew simply looked for what he wanted to know. Eventually, he did find it.

 _We are asking both of you to join the war, alongside your American brothers, as well as England and France._

He bit his lip. Their mother had probably already read this letter, and knew what was coming. She didn't want them to go, but with Alfred around, there was no way to say that the house would be quite empty for quite a while.

Alfred looked up from the letter, glancing at Matthew who seemed worried about it. "Are we going to go, Matthew?"

* * *

"Well, you're going to have to show us how you shoot before we accept you completely," one of the officers told them, looking through the papers on his desk.

Matthew glanced at Alfred, who confidently replied, "I'm pretty sure we can shoot well."

The officer shrugged. "Go outside. Look for Kiku Honda. He'll be the one to train you boys."

They both nodded, and walked past his desk (Matthew could've sworn he heard the officer say, "Did I say that right?") to the training grounds outside. Matthew felt like it was the park at home, except the shovels were guns or knives, and the rocks were grenades. It scared him a little bit, wondering if they were actually going to see that park again. Would their mother be okay?

"Are you two Matthew and Alfred?" a voice called out, bringing Matthew out of his thoughts.

"Wow, Matt, it's like a dream come true for you," Alfred whispered. "You're getting a lot of attention. He called you first."

Matthew cleared his throat. "Yes, that's us."

The man who had called them had dark black hair, and he didn't wear an American uniform. It looked like a Japanese one to Matthew.

"I see. My name is Kiku Honda. I-" he started to introduce himself until Alfred interrupted.

"You're not American. Where are you from?" Matthew elbowed his brother, causing him to groan a little bit. "Matt! What was that for?"

"Excuse my brother," Matthew said, ignoring Alfred's death glare. "I'm Matthew. This is Alfred."

"Ah, you're brothers?" Kiku affirmed. "That would explain why you two look like each other."

"Yes, uh... We were told you would teach us how to shoot a gun?" Alfred spoke up, rubbing his side in pain. "But it's not like we don't know how to shoot or-"

Without warning, Kiku pulled out a pistol and shot one of the dummies in the head, silencing Alfred immediately. Kiku held out the pistol in his direction. "Show me that you know how to, then," he said, stepping back.

Matthew stepped back as well, as Alfred got ready to shoot the dummy. There was the sound of a gunshot, and Alfred had shot it the dummy in the stomach. Matthew heard him curse something unintelligible under his breath.

"Not bad," Kiku noted. "You can still improve though."

"Can I ask my question now?" Alfred asked. "Are you Japanese?"

Kiku nodded. "Matthew, is it? Would you care to show me how _you_ shoot?"

Alfred handed the gun over to Matthew, who reluctantly took it. As odd as it seemed, the form of the gun felt familiar to his hands. A memory came back to him. It was one of him when he was a kid, and he had visited his paternal grandfather from the Williams side.

 _"I know, it's a little scary to be handling a gun, but who knows what kind of wars you're going to live through, Matthew. That's why I'm going to teach you. I hope you never have to use this knowledge."_

He took a breath, focusing on the dummy in front of him. He raised the gun, and it felt like he was back as the Williams manor, with his grandfather in the shooting range in the back.

 _"Right now, you can take your time to focus on your target. But when and if you're on the battlefield, you can't hesitate. If you lose even one second trying to focus on your enemy, they will have shot you."_

 _"So what do I do, grandpa?"_

 _"Shoot the second you see an enemy. It's okay if you miss the first shot. Just never let them shoot you."_

 _"But the scarecrow isn't going to shoot me, right?"_

 _"Of course, it won't hurt you at all, Matthew. Now, breathe. Concentrate. Steady your arms. Don't close your eyes. Know where your target is. Then shoot."_

 _Bang!_

The memory faded away, and it took Matthew a second to realize that he had shot the dummy's head off of its body. He looked at his brother and Kiku who stood behind him. Alfred's mouth was hanging open in surprise, and Kiku was nodding in approval. But Matthew didn't feel accomplished or good at all. All he felt was a knot of guilt and regret building up in his heart, as his grandfather's words came back to him.

 _"I hope you never have to use this knowledge."_


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew should've known his knowledge of shooting would be the reason why they were, a week later, on their way to France.

"We'll continue training there," Kiku had explained. "More of our allies are there, and you may be able to learn a thing or two from the French."

They had spent the entire week training, and preparing themselves before they headed off to where the war was really happening. They were supposed to keep training even longer than a week, but France was falling quickly, and was in dire need of reinforcements. Not all of the American troops were ready but Kiku had confidence in Alfred and Matthew.

Now here they were. On a boat that was slowly making its way to the real battlefield. The week had gone by too fast for Matthew's liking, and Alfred wasn't helping at all.

"Matt! Matt! I think I saw a dolphin!" Alfred shouted, leaning over the railing. "Oh! This is amazing!"

"Alfred, I hope you remember where we're going," Matthew reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, I do," Al replied, falling onto the railing. "We're about to go and see the war ourselves. That's why I'm enjoying every bit of this before it happens. Who knows when I'll be able to laugh again? I don't think I'll be able to do that when we do get there."

"You are naïvely thinking," Kiku commented, "but it's good to be optimistic while we still can be." He turned to face Matthew. "Your brother is right. You do seem a little pessimistic for an American."

"Canadian," Matthew corrected him. "I'm Canadian."

Kiku raised an eyebrow in confusion, while Alfred ran across the deck, claiming he had seen a shark swimming to the other side. "You're Canadian? I do not understand."

"Alfred and I are stepbrothers. Sure, we look like twins, but Alfred's actually a year and a half older than me," Matthew began to explain, leaning on the railing and looking out at the sea. "Alfred's father died in a shooting or something like that. Mother never really told us the whole story. A few months after his death, she met my father. Alfred was born around this time. Then a year later, I was born, coincidentally on the same day. We inherited a lot from our mother."

"I noticed you two looked alike. But there is one thing that makes you two different. Your eyes," Kiku said. "Alfred's eyes are blue while yours are purple."

"Alfred got his from his dad, I bet. Mine came from my own."

"Now I understand why you two have different surnames."

"Alfred loved his father." Matthew rested his chin on the railing, and sighed. "I wonder how he thinks about it, knowing that _his_ father is never coming home. Plus, I'm a reminder of that."

"Why do you say so?" Kiku asked, leaning on the railing next to Matthew.

"If Alfred's dad, Mr. Jones survived that shooting, I wouldn't have been born," Matthew replied, the same fear he felt when he first realized this coming back to him. "I wouldn't be here, on this boat. For all I know, Alfred would die in the war, and I wouldn't be able to save him or anything at all because I wouldn't exist."

"Matthew, you overthink," Kiku commented. "Your thoughts will bring out your feelings. With those feelings, you become vulnerable. I hope you aren't like this in the war."

"I hope I'm not like this too," Matthew agreed as Alfred appeared beside him.

"Matt, you have to look at this." Matthew stood upright almost immediately, noticing the tone of fear in Alfred's voice. "What is it- Oh my god."

Matthew ran to the front of the boat, Alfred running ahead and Kiku following shortly behind. He leaned over the railing, not believing his eyes. "This can't be," Kiku said, terrified.

"France is falling to the Germans."

* * *

The boat was forced to change its course, in hopes that it would not get hit in the crossfire. The Germans were bombing onto France, and Matthew was grateful that Alfred's childishness had actually saved them for once. If he hadn't noticed the heavy fire France was taking, they would've sailed right to their death.

"This ride is going to be a little longer," Kiku informed them. "We can't dock in France right now. We'll have to enter the battlefield from England."

Matthew nodded, as Alfred sighed next to him, collapsing on his cot. "When are the rest of Japan and America going to join us?" he wondered aloud. "I can't bear to think how many innocent people are going to die because of this."

"We don't know yet, Alfred," Kiku replied. "All I know is your president is trying to stop your people from joining, and most of Japan is dealing with the German lands in the East. We are also trying to get Italy to finally be on our side, after all these years."

"Why did _you_ join so early, Kiku?" Matthew asked, curiously. "I mean, shouldn't you be back in Japan helping your country deal with the German territories down there?"

"… I have friends in England and France. They wrote a letter to me personally, asking me to help them out," Kiku answered.

Alfred nodded in understanding. "Hopefully the rest of the Americans come, right, Matthew?"

"Grandfather wrote me a letter, saying that the Canadians might be joining as well," Matthew notified them, earning a nod from Kiku.

"Having the Canadians as allies is good news," the Japanese said. "France and England will need as much as help as they can get against the Germans."

Matthew yawned after a bit. "Is it getting late?" he asked, lying down on his own cot.

"It is," Kiku confirmed, standing up. "You two should get some rest."

"Sure," Alfred managed before yawning and curling up on his cot. "Also, Kiku, where did you learn to speak English so well?"

"My friend from England helped me out there," Kiku answered. "Before things got out of hand and Japan closed off all connections with the world… for a while."

Matthew nodded, and the oil lamp soon died, and there was the sound of someone leaving the room – _Probably Kiku_ , Matthew thought – before the darkness enveloped him and he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Matthew! Matt!" Alfred shouted, shaking his brother awake. "Get up! We're here!"

Matthew groaned, blindly swinging his hand, and in the process, hitting Alfred in the face. "Ow! My nose! What was that for?"

"Can you please not yell in the morning?" Matthew asked, sitting up, and rubbing his eyes.

"Alfred yelling at you to wake up in the morning won't be the worst thing anymore, Matthew," Kiku piped up, appearing behind Alfred, flattening the wrinkles on his uniform. "There will be bombs, sirens, and superiors yelling; oh, you'll wish it was just Alfred yelling at you instead."

Matthew frowned, putting on his jacket. "That's not very helpful."

"Come along, we must find my friends," Kiku simply said, waving his hand dismissively and walking out of the boat. Alfred stood up, helping his brother put on his shoes before running after Kiku. Matthew simply walked behind, the smell of the salty ocean and the reeking fish wafting into his nose. He'd forgotten how stable ground felt like in the past few days they had spent sailing to France. It had taken them a day to get to a midway point, and they had arrived at France at night, only to learn that the Germans had started to take over it completely. In attempt to avoid death, they changed their course to England, which didn't take too long.

Matthew sighed. He wondered how his mother was faring. Was she alright? How about father? Did he go home to support her while their children were shipped off to Europe? Or did he not go home at all?

"Matthew?" Alfred spoke, waving his hand in front of his brother's face. "Are you there?"

Matt shook his head, blinking twice to remember where he was. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I was thinking."

"Were you thinking about Mom and Dad?" Alfred asked, as they walked through the bustling streets of England. There were several men in uniforms walking around, and the train station was crowded with crying families and children bidding their parents goodbye.

"Where are all those kids going, Kiku?" Matthew asked, turning to the Japanese man as he had just finished speaking with one of the officers.

"They're being sent to the countryside," Kiku answered. "To avoid getting hurt by anything the Germans may send to England. It's a safety precaution, really."

Matthew pursed his lips in thought. He had only turned eighteen; had it been a year earlier when the war started, he wondered if he would get sent to the countryside if he had lived in England. It was a bizarre thought, but Matthew couldn't help but think the bizarre.

"Alright, boys, here's the ride," Kiku said, as a car parked in front of them. "Shall we go and meet my friends?"

* * *

The car ride was relatively short; there wasn't much to say about it, aside from the fact that Alfred couldn't help himself with noticing the structures. "Oh! That's Big Ben, right?" "Whoa, Matt, would you look at that!"

Matthew contemplated on finding a gun and shooting himself in the head because Alfred was starting to get annoying. But then again, it was the first time they had gone to England. Matthew hadn't want to come here because of the war, making a mental note that if they made it out alive, they'd bring their mother here.

Once they did arrive, Alfred had gone quiet. For the second they had stepped onto the rocky road in front of the old building, they heard gunshots coming from inside. "Have the French come here too?" Alfred inquired as they walked up the steps.

Kiku shrugged. "Some of them could've fled here after what happened in France. It's more likely they fled to Paris, but we may never know."

They walked through several hallways, passing several officers who simply glanced at them before returning to what they were doing previously. Eventually they reached a desk, where one of the officers, similar to the one back in America, sat, sorting through papers.

"Officer, would you happen to know where might I be able to find Captain Bonnefoy?" Kiku asked, leaning on the table. It was almost impossible to tell Kiku was actually Japanese, Matthew noticed, because of how he spoke such fluent English. If it weren't for the faint accent of his, his name would be the only thing of words that made him not a true English person.

"Captain Bonnefoy?" the officer repeated, looking up from his papers. "Ah, the French captain who... He's outside with someone named Arthur, I believe." Matthew raised his eyebrow at this. The officer had left trailed off mid-sentence, but he decided not to question it as Kiku and Alfred walked down the hallway. He hurried to catch up to them.

Once again, there was the cry of gunshots filling the silent Tuesday morning. Matthew couldn't help but wonder who would be shooting this early. Once they stepped outside, however, he soon found the answer to his question.

Shooting an unidentifiable assault rifle was a man with scruffy blonde hair, green eyes and possibly the thickest eyebrows that Matthew had ever seen. He wore the uniform of the English army, signalling that this was perhaps the English man who Kiku mentioned earlier.

"Ah, this is a surprise!" the other man, who had a bit of a thick French accent and purple eyes, cried out. "Kiku, it's great to see you again."

"Don't treat this like this is some great celebration, Francis," the English man hissed, putting the rifle away. "Hello Kiku. It's a shame we had to meet under such circumstances."

"Who are these two youngsters with you?" the one named Francis asked, finally noticing Matthew and Alfred.

"Alfred, Matthew, these are the friends I told you about," Kiku began, "Captain Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland. Arthur, Francis, this is Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams."

"So you really did drop by the New World," Francis remarked, nodding.

"Arthur, I'm surprised to see you here," Kiku spoke. "I didn't think you'd be the one to enlist."

"I was the only one in the family who could take the responsibility," Arthur explained. "Or, at least, I was the only one _willing_ to take it."

Alfred cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the three men. "So, what are we doing now?" he asked.

Arthur turned his attention back to the guns, pulling out two of them and throwing one to Alfred. "You're going to shoot." He then threw one to Matthew. "If you can't shoot, I'll shoot you right here."

Matthew saw Alfred furrow his brows and open his mouth to shoot back some witty comeback, but they were interrupted by a voice coming from the building. "We've received word from the Italians!"

Francis suddenly perked up, grinnnig. "Then that must mean… he's here!"


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew couldn't help but notice it: Alfred was acting _extremely_ different. He had some sort of an arrogant aura around him, and he kept glaring daggers at Arthur as they walked down the hallway to the conference room. Of course, Arthur didn't notice (well, at least, Matthew assumed he didn't) as he was in deep conversation with Kiku.

Francis, on the other hand, acted a lot like Alfred. Acting so optimistic and occasionally throwing curses, it seemed like Francis was in some weird way a relative. It scared Matthew a little bit, but he shrugged the thought away as they entered the conference room.

The first thing to enter Matthew's ears was the sound of a Spanish accent speaking. "Yes, yes, it was a little bit of a tedious task getting back here, but I'm perfectly alright."

Matthew looked around the room, noticing some officers in deep conversation whilst trying to locate the source of the Spanish voice. It was a bit out of place, in Matthew's opinion, as Spain wasn't actually all that involved the war.

"Then explain to me what all those scratches and bruises are, Antonio!" a different voice snapped, with an accent Matthew couldn't quite place. It was definitely a woman speaking, but from _where_?

"Antonio!" Francis called out, throwing his arms into the air and striding towards the source of the voices. Matthew glanced his way and saw the owner of the voices.

Antonio, Matthew guessed, was a man with scruffy brown hair and bright green eyes. He had a bit of a darker skin tone, but Matthew supposed it didn't matter at the time. The anonymous woman had slightly curly blonde hair, and green eyes shaped like almonds. She had a messenger bag draped over her shoulder, and she did indeed wear a uniform, but Matthew couldn't name the country from which it came from.

"Francis! I haven't seen you for quite a while!" Antonio said, grinning widely. "It's a pleasure, good captain."

Francis laughed. "Please, no formalities, Antonio." He then turned his attention to the woman. "Emma, I see you're still being the fussing old hen you always are."

Emma frowned, attempting to hit Francis in the head with a cane she had in her hand. It soon dawned upon Matthew that Emma was perhaps a medic around here.

"How about you shut up?" she suggested bitterly, and Arthur piped in, "I've told him that several times. He _never_ listens."

"Arthur, please," Francis said, laughing while rubbing his head. Something about his laugh seemed empty, and when Matthew looked at Antonio, he saw the Spanish man biting his lip.

"Oh, right... Uh, Francis," he started, scratching his head. "We heard about... Joan."

Francis' smile disappeared from his face. Matthew and Alfred (surprisingly) remained quiet, noticing that this seemed to be a little bit of a sensitive topic. "Ah, yes, Joan..." Francis sighed.

"We're sorry," Emma apologized quickly. "We'll make the Germans pay for her death."

In the corner of his eye, Matthew saw Alfred's fist ball up. He couldn't help but feel exactly what his brother was at the moment. Alfred had always wanted to be the hero after all, saving people.

"Oh, the Krauts _will_ pay alright," Alfred spoke up bitterly. Matthew should've known it was coming. His brother, sometimes, couldn't tell the difference between justice and vengeance, blinded by the anger and regret that he wasn't able to do anything to save the people in France.

Kiku was right after all; he should've treasured all of Alfred's optimistic moments before they were gone.

* * *

The two boys had soon learned that Emma was indeed the medic around here. She had been studying medicine in France at the time the war started, and was relocated here due to the heavy fire France was taking.

Antonio, on the other hand, was a Spanish man who was their only way of communicating with the Italians. It seemed that Italy would soon break its "alliance" with Germany and the others, and join the other side. He had "shared the big news" with Alfred and Matthew, earning a whack on the head from Emma who demanded to know what he had told them.

After a bit, Arthur had explained to them who Joan was. She was named after Joan of Arc, and her death was the sole reason Francis joined. Once again, Matthew noted, he was like a relative, acting an awful lot like Alfred. Her death had been a sorrowfully painful one for the Frenchman, as it turned out that she had been shot the very second Francis had found her so they could flee.

Matthew couldn't help but admit that Francis _had_ a reason to regret and want vengeance. Alfred just couldn't see that huge difference.

"Matthew, is it?" Arthur asked him, as Francis and Antonio had pulled his brother away to see how well he would shoot.

The Canadian nodded. "Yes it is. Can I help you?"

"I was hoping to ask about your brother, Alfred," he started. "I noticed he keeps glaring at me, and he just seems like an arrogant little _twit_. What's his problem with me?"

Matthew shrugged. "I really don't know. He doesn't act like this at all," he answered, earning a nod from the Englishman.

"I was also hoping to ask you if you two are really twins," Arthur continued as they walked down the hallway. "Because I couldn't help but notice the curl in your hair that Alfred doesn't seem to have, and the difference in your eye colour."

Matthew didn't want to repeat the whole painful story all over again, but Arthur somehow felt like a superior to him. So he explained the gist of it: they were stepbrothers, both born in July - Alfred a whole year earlier - and having inherited several traits from their mother. "Our eyes, and I guess our hair came from our dads," he finished as they stepped outside.

"That would explain the different surnames," Arthur affirmed. "It seemed peculiar, that you two looked alike but aren't actually the same age."

"Oh no, Al's a _whole_ year older," Matthew added, waving his hand dismissively. "And his birthday is just three days after mine."

"When are your birthdays?"

"July 1 and 4."

"The independence days for Canada and America respectively," Arthur noted. "What a coincidence."

"Oddly enough."

Talking to Arthur was so easy, it felt like Matthew had known him for years. Even longer than Alfred, whom he had known since birth. It was a weird feeling. The Englishman felt like a relative, similar to Francis but the feeling didn't seem to weird the Canadian like it did with Francis. Arthur felt like an old friend to whom Matthew could confide anything to, and he had only met the man an hour ago.

He made it a note in his head: he was definitely going to bring his mother to England when the war was over. This place just felt... _comforting_.

A little more comforting than home. Which scared Matthew more than anything.

"Hey, Matt!" Alfred called him, bringing the boy out of his thoughts. He blinked a few times, seeing Alfred standing and waving him over with a huge grin on his face. "Wanna show them your amazing shooting skills?"

"Amazing shooting skills?" Arthur repeated, chuckling. "He thinks highly of you."

"And he's older than me," Matthew whispered to himself, watching as Arthur walked towards his friends.

As comforting as England and everyone else, everything scared the Canadian. This place felt like a second home, but he was here for one sole reason: the war.

And if he died, then he'd never get the chance to see it again.

* * *

Night fell quick, and a majority of the superiors had been called to a meeting. Arthur, Emma and Antonio had also been called, and Kiku insisted that Matthew and Alfred listened in as well. They were, according to the Japanese, representatives of Canada and America, soon-to-be allies. Of course, none of the superiors objected to it.

Which would explain Matthew trying to listen and Alfred's disinterest in the topic and boredom at the moment.

"... They are planning to cut off their ties with Germany and the rest of their alliance very soon," Antonio concluded.

"This came straight from the head of the Resistenza?" one of the superiors asked.

Antonio nodded. "Romano Vargas told me himself."

There were a few hushed voices until the commander cleared his throat. "Captain Bonnefoy." Francis perked up, turning his attention to the conversation. It appeared he was uninterested like Alfred. "I am assigning you and your troop to the trenches."

"The trenches?" Francis asked. "It's getting worse in there, isn't it?"

"Which is why I've decided to assign you there," the commander repeated himself. He glanced at Alfred and Matthew. "You will be taking along our young allies here." He then turned to Emma who stood attentively. "Miss Emma. You will be accompanying Captain Bonnefoy's troop in the trenches. God knows what those Germans will be doing."

"If I may speak up," Kiku spoke, raising his hand. The commander nodded, and the Japanese continued. "Are you sure our young allies are ready for the trenches? If it is as bad as Francis assumes, then would it be a wise decision?"

The commander pursed his lips in thought, as Francis commented, "He makes a valid point."

"Very well. Admiral, you shall accompany the captain's troops in the trenches," he finally concluded. "Captain Bonnefoy, any remarks?"

Francis remained silent for a little bit. But he finally spoke, "We leave at dawn."

Matthew felt the fear get stuck in his throat. This was it. They were going to the real battlefield tomorrow.


End file.
